The Rustle of Cottonwoods: A Song Sung by the Western Wind

There’s something about the open range that speaks to the soul of a cowboy.

Beneath the cottonwoods™ whispering sighs,

The western wind weaves tales of the brave.

As sunset drenches the horizon in dyes,

A song of freedom through the branches wave.

A lonesome rider, with spirits so bold,

Finds solace ˜neath the broad, rustling leaves.

The stories of old, in the twilight retold,

Speak of lost treasures and heart that believes.

From prairie to mountain, he chases the night,

With stars like silver, they dot the vast dome.

His saddle creaks softly, the world feels just right,

For in every gust, he feels more like home.

So heed the soft melody carried away,

For the rustle of cottonwoods holds the key.

In every breeze, theres an echo to stay,

A song of the wild, of the cowboy™s decree.